Always You Three
by ThereBeDragons17
Summary: Professor McGonagall still stands by those words, although now they have a new meaning.


Professor McGonagall dragged the three children up the moving spiral staircase and through the door of the headmistress' office. Well, she dragged James. Where James went, Albus would follow, and when James was in trouble, Lily would follow. So she was indirectly dragging all three Potters.

The portraits on the walls jerked awake and grumbled at being woken at such an early hour. The sky through the large window facing east was just beginning to turn a soft purple. Heavy clouds were gathering, assuring the residents of Hogwarts that rain would be coming. It seemed that most of September had been this way. After the pleasant dryness that had been August, the skies had given up trying to be friendly and decided that what the witches and wizards really needed was a nice, steady, month-long downpour. Even Professor Longbottom had been heard admitting that the rain was starting to be too much even for his plants.

Leaving the three children in the center of the room Professor McGonagall took her seat in the straight-backed gold chair behind the large headmistress' desk. From there, she could see not only the children but also the door, the two largest windows, and the large ring on the floor that denoted where Fawkes the phoenix's perch used to be. The ash had darkened the exposed flagstones and since the bird had been relocated, the grey ring was the only indicator that the stand had ever stood there. Now, both the perch and the phoenix were at the back of the room, standing regally next to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who gazed down his long nose at the three Potter children with intrigue, a knowing and somewhat nostalgic smile gracing his face. How many times had he brought these children's father into this very room, had him stand where they now stood?

Professor McGonagall was looking rather more exasperated than Professor Dumbledore's portrait, huffing as she pulled a pile of papers from one of the drawers in her desk. She glanced up occasionally at the students before her, as if making sure none of them were attempting to steal something. James, the eldest by one year, looked very much like his grandfather, the notorious troublemaker of the same name and same reputation. His brown eyes were a bit brighter, but the untidy black hair had been handed down the family tree, and so had the penchant for disaster. He looked very calm standing inside the office, despite the fact that it was one of the rooms in the castle most students hoped to never find themselves in. The fifth year Gryffindor had certainly seen the inside plenty of times.

Albus' attitude was much different from his brother's. Younger by one year, Albus looked very similar to James, and therefore also his father, Harry, and his grandfather. He looked the most like Harry. He had what many people had told his father were 'Lily's eyes', emerald-green orbs that swiveled around, taking in every aspect of his surroundings. He looked jittery and a little nervous. There were times when Professor McGonagall wondered why Albus had been sorted into Gryffindor, and not Ravenclaw; but then there were also times when she wholeheartedly agreed with his placement.

Lily Luna was also a regular in the headmistress' office, and if McGonagall knew anything about the Potter family, she could be sure that the second year would be entering her office many more times in the years to come. She looked like her mother, with slightly longer than shoulder length red hair and bright brown eyes. She had, however, a fair slice of her uncles' appetite for mischief. The largest underestimation Professor McGonagall had ever made was when she had first seen sweet little Lily Luna Potter about to be sorted into Gryffindor with her brothers. A week later she had been running around in utter confusion as to who on earth had set off a handful of Instant Darkness Powder in the History of Magic classroom, effectively rendering Professor Binns invisible. His disembodied voice (more disembodied than usual, that is) had continued to drone on, at least until most of his students had burst out of his classroom, coughing and rubbing soot out of their eyes. Lily would have passed under the radar, too, if Professor McGonagall hadn't entered the Gryffindor Common Room to see James giving his little sister a congratulatory high-five.

One year and a month. She was already dangerously close to wit's end. At least in two years James would graduate, and the Trio of Trouble, as Professor Drescher had dubbed them, would be fragmented. Professor Drescher had now been in the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for ten years, and he had admitted to the headmistress on more than one occasion that Harry must have passed his talent in the subject on to his children. He had in fact asked Harry to speak to his students on multiple occasions, and Harry, despite being Head of the Auror Office, had made time to fulfill at least a couple of the requests.

But Harry Potter was no longer Professor McGonagall's concern, and his children definitely were.

Abandoning the papers, and wondering what on earth she was going to do about the children, she asked tiredly, "Why is it always you three?"

Behind her, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore chuckled knowlingly.


End file.
